


Prisoners

by Occula



Category: U2
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occula/pseuds/Occula
Summary: Adam always believes him.





	Prisoners

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 7/1/2003.

Only when you’re drunk.

I know you don’t like to drink that much, but, like everybody, you have a few too many from time to time.

“Take me home,” you slur in my ear. “Take me home with you.” And I do. Home where your touch is tender, where I can’t get enough of kissing you. I always thought you’d be rough in bed, but instead everything’s gentle and slow. 

You say it, you say it from the moment we’re inside the door to the moment you finally pass out in my arms. “I love you,” you growl in my ear, nibbling on it. “I love you,” you say, smiling, as I go down on you. You call it out as you come, incoherent, “love – love – yes – love.” You hold me and murmur “love you —" as your eyes close.

I believe you. I fucking _always_ believe you.

In the morning you wake up and push me away with your patented frown, covering your beautiful body with last night’s clothes. You tell me to take you home; you call home with explanations as I dress. The drive is torture, and when we arrive you don’t speak or look at me, you just get out of the car and leave me.

Sometimes I have to sit there a minute before I can drive off. I put my hand on the warm, empty seat.

Then I go home. My house is never as empty as those mornings. I feel like a lost dog that’s been kicked and scorned. I feel like a sinking ship. I feel like a prisoner, and I love my chains. I feel like a man who loves you.

I know you hate yourself afterwards. I know you don’t like to lose control, and I know you behave in ways you never would, sober. I know you have the discipline and the strength to hold out for a long, long time.

Sometimes as little as a few weeks. Sometimes more than a year.

But I’ll be here. Every time. Because I believe you.


End file.
